


My Sunshine

by morgellons



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Plot, Pre-Canon, Romance, Science, Scientist!Reader, Smut, Sort of? - Freeform, philosophical nonsense, some canon divergence, spoilers for s1 and s2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-08-11 07:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16471241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgellons/pseuds/morgellons
Summary: This world is bleak, hollow, harrowing— a lie. Even still, she never fails to brighten my day. One unlike the others. Human but not cruel.





	1. Prelude to a Dream

The terminal gleamed stark, sterile, white— much to your surprise. It was far from what you’d expect of this particular institution, given the theme at least. You almost felt nervous stepping out of the monorail and walking across the pristine floors. With worn shoes and a cheap, comfortable pantsuit, you hardly felt at place with your glamorous surroundings. It was admittedly the best you could manage without a multimillion dollar bank account. Besides, what you wore now wouldn’t matter once you made it _in._

 

As you took in the view— the shining towers of light, wealthy elites strolling by with their styled hair and striking clothes, espances of decorative rock jotting through the walls— you failed to notice the woman who was hoping to catch your attention.

 

A soft, accented voice called your name. Your eyes flicked forward to see the owner of the voice standing before you. She was slim and elegant, not unlike her workplace. She wore a white, form-fitting dress cutting right above the knee, and matching pearly heels. Her blonde hair was styled into a neat bun, leaving not a single strand to obstruct the view of her pale, flawless face. The woman batted her eyes, patiently waiting for your move.

 

“Oh, yes. That’s me,” you stammered, extending your hand. “And you are?”

 

“My name is Angela,” she said with a curt smile. “Welcome to Westworld.”

 

Angela took your hand and gave it a quick shake. Her skin was smooth— unnaturally smooth, and pleasantly cool. Her eyes met yours and she gave you another smile. The woman was simply immaculate. She must be one of them.

 

“Right this way,” Angela purred, beckoning for you to follow. She began scrolling though the tablet she held as you walked beside her, and tucked it away as the two of you approached the steep elevator.

 

“I see that this is your first visit,” she said as the steps took you up onto the second floor. “I’ll need to ask you a few personal questions.”

 

“Sure,” you nodded, watching the woman articulate her words flawlessly. If it weren’t for your fair intuition, you’d never guess her true nature. That was part of the experience, you supposed. The likeness is meant to be nearly indistinguishable.

 

“Do you have any pre-existing medical conditions?”

 

“No, not anymore. Just a bit of asthma, that’s all,” you noted, though it likely wouldn’t be any trouble.

 

“Ah. Any health problems?”

 

“Not currently… my file should explain that,” you sighed.

 

“I see,” she said, with a brief pause. “Any history of mental illness? Depression, panic attacks…”

 

“Uh— panic attacks. I used to have a few, I mean. But I think I can handle this.”

 

“Are you certain? We only want to provide you with the very best experience Westworld can offer.”

 

“Yeah,” you said hesitantly. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“Good to hear. Do you often experience social anxiety?”

 

“Often? Well, occasionally. Not often…”

 

As you reached the top of the escalator, a huge screen came into view. It followed with images of gorgeous rusty platoons and spots of chaparral. The park logo faded into the center.

 

“That’s alright,” Angela cooed. “Here, you can choose to be anything. You can conform as much or as little as you like.”

 

She led you into a room down the hall. Like the monorail terminal, it was colorless, monochromatic. You took a moment to adjust to the dim light.

 

On either sides of the walls, dozens of outfits of every color were lit on display. It all looked very expensive. Your fingers trailed gently over a silken dress.

 

“Everything is fitted to suit you needs. Don’t be shy— it’s all arranged just for you,” Angela said softly, circling the middle table.

 

You nodded shyly, joining her before the glass display. An array of revolvers were aligned beneath. Much to your embarrassment, it would be your first time actually handling a functioning gun. Aside from the occasional video game, you had next to zero experience.

 

“Take your pick.”

 

“But I—“

 

“You’ll figure things out. It’s a learning experience,” Angela coaxed. “First time around? Unforgettable.”

 

_First and probably only._

 

“I bet,” you whispered. Your eyes traced over each weapon. They all looked fairly similar in design, the discrepancies being in color for the most part. Some were flashy, some bold. Plain guns and ornate ones— each variant to match a specific personality.

 

“I think I’ll choose my clothes first,” you chuckled nervously. Perhaps that would be an easier decision.

 

“As you wish.”

 

You looked over the wall displays once again. There were many beautiful, intricate dresses and gowns in violet and emerald and burgundy. But if you were to see some action— which you surely would in this park— clothing like this would simply get in the way.

 

You passed the formal wear to browse through the more manageable outfits. There were no cars to drive off-road though the hillside with, so something more suited to horseback would be ideal. The best you could find were ankle-length skirts— which looked like tangled messes waiting to happen— aside from flat out trousers.

 

Although less luxurious, you had to settle on the latter. A pair of dark breeches with full seat reinforcement patches caught your eye. They would be substantial, if not a little plain. But practicality should always come first.

 

You’d need a top to match the breeches. Walking across the room to the next wall display, you rummaged through a line a blouses. Some were rather _revealing_ , and others were too frumpy.

 

_Might as well follow through with simplicity._

 

You chose an off-white collared blouse. Again, it was nothing fancy, but the chatoyant lavender buttons were a nice touch.

 

To your right was a small compartment containing a series of accessories. Bows, bonnets, necklaces— and just what you were hoping for: a matching chatoyant bolo tie.

 

“How lucky,” Angela commented suddenly.

 

You glanced back to see the woman approaching you, tablet in hand.

 

“Right,” you smiled, lacing your fingers together. Nothing here was simply “luck”.

 

“I suppose you’re just about done,” she concluded, admiring the tie you had picked out. “Would you like some help trying things on?”

 

“No.. no thanks. I think I can maneuver the costumes alright.”

 

“Well then. I’ll be right down the hall when you’re ready. Take as long as you need,” Angela said smoothly before disappearing around the corner.

 

The last things you needed were a pair of shoes, a holster, and your weapon, of course. A pair of black western boots would suffice. You then chose a black holster with a matching belt.

 

Lastly, you were left with your original dilemma. You approached the revolver table, slowly inspecting each weapon. On the far left was a gun that seemed to reveal itself to you only now. It was pitch black with dashing silver accents. Surely the differences from gun to gun were only aesthetic, but if your life wasn’t at danger here, it wouldn’t even matter too bad.

 

You began to undress. Even with socks, the cold of the floor seemed to nip at your skin. You shivered, changing as quickly as possible. If there was one thing this institution had yet to perfect, it was dressing room temperature. It was far too cold for your liking. But that would change soon. Where you were headed was sure to be warm.


	2. The New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her complexion was like porcelain— pale but not sickly, with a hint of pink dusted over her cheeks. A simple blue dress matched her blue eyes— simple, yet beautiful.

When you finished changing, you found Angela in a separate room through the corridor. She stood in the center, a sly smile on her face. 

 

“You’re just about ready, trailblazer,” she began, looking you down. “Just more thing. It’s optional of course, for the ladies. But I think you might find it complementing.”

 

Angela held her arms out, gesturing to the dark walls behind you. You turned to see a gallery of hats— half of them black and half of them white. Angela was right— your outfit was rather butch for a maiden in the Old West. A hat would definitely complete your look. There was just one problem. 

 

“Are there any other colors?” 

 

“Oh,” Angela piped. “Yes. Most guests don’t ask. Right over here.” 

 

On a small glass table lay three grey felt hats. You took the middle Stetson with a black ribbon band. Grey was fitting. Black and white were far too ultimate. No person— and certainly not you— can be completely simplified to the generic “black” or “white”. The world was shades of grey, as were people. Black and white exists in fantasy only, and though the park is s living fantasy in itself, you wouldn’t change your alignment for the sake of fantasy. Whether or not it mattered to the actual narratives, you would rather choose something actually representative of yourself. 

 

Angela led you down one final corridor. You entered a white rectangular hall with long rows of bright light shining down from the textured ceiling. 

 

“This is where I leave you,” she said, beckoning to the dark wooden door at the end of the hall. “Enjoy your stay, and remember— there is no judgement here. As we say, live without limits.”

 

“Thank you,” you replied as she rounded the corner, waving. You turned back to the door. It had a long window in its center, but the fogged finish made it difficult to see what may lie on the other side. 

 

You turned the knob and stepped inside. Instantly, you were met with a cacophony of noises— people talking, laughing, the clink of glass and silverware, a faint piano melody in the distance. Warm light poured through the spaces between curtains. Men and women throughout the room were dressed in the same Western attire as you. 

 

As you began to walk through the commotion, you felt a sudden shaking encompassing the room. Rattling bottles were only rivaled in volume by the rhythmic chugging all around you. The room wasn’t a room, but a carriage on a train. 

 

_ That’s right— the train takes you into the park… _

 

You rushed to a window. It was just like the pictures on the big screen. The wide expanses of striped red rock passing you by seemed to stretch on forever past the horizon. Puffy clouds gathered at their flat peaks before opening to a broad, azure sky. Below you, the land dropped dramatically in jagged steps down to level, dusty shrubland. 

 

Just this view alone was enough to leave you in awe. Hardly five minutes in, and the park was already stunning. You pulled up one of the decorative chairs to the window. You took a seat, admiring the wondrous landscape, imagining all that awaited you within it. 

 

Had you not been so enticed by the picturesque scenery, you would have surely succumbed to a nap. The preparation for this trip over the last few days had been agonizing. Emails, paperwork, travel, and your own nervous excitement spanning late nights and early mornings. And so you took the time to bask in the lavish atmosphere, containing your exhilaration through staring through that window while the warm morning sun painted over your face. 

 

After some time, your surroundings began to change from the dramatic, rugged badlands. The ground evened out to a sandy, level trail with the occasional broad, green tree. You felt the train begin to gradually decelerate until it screeched to a full stop, whistle howling in unison. 

 

You rose from your seat as the other passengers began to flood through the exit. Making your way down the steps and onto the platform, you took in the first real view of Westworld, functioning in all its glory. 

 

It was like an old photograph. Buildings of every kind were separated by dirt paths. People and horses and covered wagons made their way from corner to corner, kicking up puffs of dust into the wind. Clouds hung low over the town while sloping, distant peaks draped against the hazy sky. 

 

It was time to step into unknown territory. You left the platform and began passing between the shops. Despite the town’s size, Main Street was bustling with action. A blacksmith hammered away at his iron as Union soldiers rallied for the cause. Cowboys and their women continued to deboard the  _ Black Ridge Limited  _ and made their way to the many shops, bars, and hotels. Banter filled the street— laughter and flirtation, threats meaningless and genuine, hopeless bets and warnings of fearsome bandits. 

 

“Hector Escaton,” you read, getting a closer look at one of the flyers posted on a corner. “Wanted dead or alive… five hundred thousand reward— murderer.” 

 

The flyer pictured a threatening, yet handsome figure. He had dark hair topped with a Stetson and a narrowed gaze. A long scar stretched down from his forehead and over his left eye, ending at his cheek. It was a hefty sum for a single man. You’d have keep an eye out for him.  

 

Everyone seemed like they had someplace to be. Everyone expect you, that is. At the moment, you were simply reveling in awe at the sheer realism of the township. Every single detail was meticulously crafted to provide the greatest immersion possible. It was no less than mind blowing. You supposed that you were gaining a sense of bearings as well, but direction wasn’t what you focused on in that moment. 

 

You passed a large wooden building titled Mariposa Saloon and Hotel with a few working girls enticing guests out front. Across from it was another hotel, the Coronado, which advertised luxury and dining. You had yet to find a place to stay for the night, and the latter seemed like your best bet if there was vacancy. The brothel wasn’t your first choice, but if it came down to it, at least you’d have a bed to sleep in. 

 

As you walked through town, the petite, pitched roof Sweetwater General Store came into view. A row of horses were tied to an iron hitching post right outside of it. The store seemed like a good place to start— until you realized you had just enough money to feed yourself for the night.

 

_ Hector better show up on my doorstep soon, or I’ll have to scavenge for goods elsewhere.  _

 

You walked towards the hitching post. You didn’t even have a means of transportation either. A decent horse was bound to be above your price range. All this excitement, all of your wild dreams of Old West adventures, and you weren’t even sure which path to take now that you were finally here. You stared down at the dirt road, kicking at a few pebbles while you considered your dilemma. 

 

A small, white can rolled to your feet. You crouched to pick it up off the ground, and when you arose your eyes met with a pair of sparkling turquoise ones. 

 

“You uh— dropped this… ma’am,” you fumbled as the gorgeous woman smiled, taking the can of milk from your outstretched hand. She reminded you of Angela— but wholesome, rather than foxy. Long, golden locks were combed back and left to cascade into soft curls at her waist. Her complexion was like porcelain— pale but not sickly, with a hint of pink dusted over her cheeks. A simple blue dress matched her blue eyes— simple, yet beautiful. 

 

“Oh, thank you,” she beamed, stuffing the can back into her saddlebag. “Say, you’re one of the newcomers, ain’t that right?”

 

“Yes, yes I am,” you piped, crossing your arms shyly. You had only just met the woman, yet she looked at you as if you were the only thing in the world right now. 

 

“Where’d you come from, if I may ask?”

 

“Well,” you sighed, searching your mind for a convincing explanation. You didn’t want to exactly lie to her, but you couldn’t tell the full truth either. “I came here from a vast land across the sea.” 

 

“That sounds incredible,” she sighed. “I’m afraid I’ve never strayed too far from my daddy’s ranch. How are you liking Sweetwater?”

 

“It’s amazing,” you grinned, looking out for a moment to admire the town’s constitution once again. “I’ve never been to a place like this before. I admit I’m still trying to find my way around this world.”

 

“Don’t you have a place to stay?”

 

You shifted your weight nervously from one foot to the other. “No… I hadn’t really planned for that. Sounds silly, I know. I guess I got so caught up that it just didn’t cross my mind.”

 

“You could join us for dinner if you like,” the woman offered with a soft smile. “You seem nice, and daddy and I always enjoy good company.”

 

“Ah— you don’t have to! I don’t mean to intrude…”

 

“You’re not intruding at all,” she giggled, touching your shoulder briefly. “I insist. Where else are you gonna go?”

 

“Got me there,” you chuckled, your eyes darting to the floor. “I don’t think I caught your name?”

 

“Dolores,” she smiled, taking your hand. Her touch was gentle, soft, and lingered for a moment. “And you are?”

 

You introduced yourself curtly, fiddling with the ends of your tie. You almost couldn’t believe your luck. The worries you once had seemed to vanish entirely. Food and shelter was taken care of with one conversation, and you had already made your first friend here— a kind and beautiful one at that. 

 

Dolores fished around in her bag, then handed you a few bills. “Why don’t you get yourself a quick bite to eat at the Coronado and I’ll meet you right outside Doctor O’Rourke’s?” 

 

“Thank you so much,” you breathed. It had already been a few hours since breakfast, and all the action must have distracted you from your growing hunger. 

 

“It’s my pleasure,” she said cheerfully. She ran her fingers through her buckskin’s dark mane before tightening the girth. “See you in a bit.”

 

Dolores untied her horse and made off to the building across the street. You watched her walk around the block, her blue dress fluttering at her feet and her blonde curls bouncing with each step. When she was out of sight, you made you way over to the Coronado. 

 


	3. City Slicker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This looks very complicated...

After having lunch, you found Dolores just where she said she’d be. This time, she sat atop her mare, her blue dress draping from withers to croup. Her face lit up as she spotted you, calling your name. You walked up to the buckskin, patting her shoulder as she sniffed at your pockets. 

 

“I don’t suppose you have a horse,” Dolores said, peering down at you. “It’s a long ways to walk. Why don’t you hop up here?”

 

You placed one hand on the cantle as the mare waited patiently for you. “Okay, I just…”

 

“Here,” she said, leaning over and grabbing your left hand. She kicked her feet out of the stirrups “Prop your leg over here and I’ll pull you up.”

 

You stepped with your left leg up and swung your right leg over as Dolores helped steady you onto her horse. Normally, you’d think that riding double for long distances would make the horse sore, but this horse wasn’t capable of soreness. None of them were. 

 

“Hold on,” Dolores said, gathering her reins. “She’s pretty forward, so I’ll keep her at a lope at most for your sake.”

 

You nodded, sheepishly placing your hands on her waist. The mare’s ears pricked and swiveled back as Dolores clicked for her to walk. Your new height allowed for a better perspective of the town. It was all a little less intimidating— everything looked smaller and more friendly. 

 

The mare suddenly launched into a trot. She weaved the two of you through the roads and around other riders and their horses. You tightened your grip as you adjusted to the bouncy, two-beat gait. It took some getting used to, especially with no stirrups to steady your feet. 

 

You pranced across town, past the shops and restaurants and bars, until you had reached the outskirts. There was a clear path leading out to the frontier now. 

 

“Oh!” You yelped as the horse underneath you took off. You would have certainly slid right off the back end if you hadn’t clung on for dear life so fiercely as you did. 

 

“Told you,” Dolores giggled, looking back at you. You relaxed your fingers a little, which were bunched up nervously in the blue fabric. 

 

Eventually, you became accustomed to the swinging gait of the mare. It must be the lope— a rhythmic, rocking three-beat which propelled you forward with each stride. As the dust gave away to the open land, the haze disappeared while the towering red buttes and mesas reemerged, framing the horizon once more. 

 

Together, you bounded over the rolling hills. Red soil dappled with tufts of green and scattered with sun-bleached rocks spread out in all directions. Bright, round clouds floated in a sea of baby blue as orange sunlight began to slip across the mesas. A herd of russet dots traveled over a nearing plain. They moved slowly, growing larger as you approached them. 

 

“Woah,” Dolores cooed as her mare slowed to a trot. You were now traveling alongside the herd with a softer stride as to not disturb their grazing. 

 

“Cows,” you said plainly, marveling at the animals. They were so large and majestic, especially in a group like this. You had never seen one this close before. 

 

You haven’t gotten the chance to see many of these great beasts at all, really. The Raj would have been your second choice, but killing beautiful creatures— “living” or not— didn’t sound so pleasant to you. Most of the mightiest species that had roamed the Earth perished within your lifetime. Encounters like these in a nature setting were the closest you’d ever get to the real thing. 

 

“Cattle,” Dolores corrected. “It’s our herd— daddy’s and mine. I reckon you never tended a ranch before either.”

 

“Right you are,” you sighed, watching the cattle pass by leisurely. “The land I come from probably doesn’t sound so exciting anymore, huh. A little drab, unfriendly…”

 

“On the contrary,” she reassured, leading her horse away from the herd. “Different doesn’t always mean bad. Just means it’s different. And I always love learning about new things, meeting new people.”

 

“...Good point,” you chuckled as you watched the cattle become specks on the hill, eventually disappearing behind the next. 

 

“It’s like you,” Dolores continued. “You’re mighty different from everyone I know, coming from this strange new place and all. But that doesn’t mean you’re bad. It’s why I’m always pleased to meet the newcomers. I like you for being different.”

 

Her words had taken you aback. So her kindness wasn’t simply out of courtesy. 

 

“You like me?” 

 

“Of course I do, you silly thing,” she teased. “Haven’t given me anything to dislike, have you?”

 

You shook your head. “I don’t think so. At least, I hope not.”

 

Dolores smiled coyly and clicked at her horse to lope. You held on this time as you flew through the green bunches. They grew larger and more numerous as you ventured farther into the sloping wilderness, and the ground was soon covered entirely by green— save for a single dirt road that the mare stuck close to. 

 

It truly felt like flying, to dash across the gentle knolls on horseback. Wind rushed past you as you glided effortlessly through a layer of shrub and grass. You could feel the strength of the animal underneath you, carrying you swiftly across the kilometers of frontier. And the woman before you— leading you into the new world with open arms. 

 

Bushes transformed into tall, uniform bristles that veiled the soil of the flattening land. Balding, wedge-shaped trees began to appear among the low-lying vegetation. The sun was only a sliver over a distant plateau, red beams casting a glow onto all they could touch. The trees grew larger, healthier, and more copious as the dirt path grew broader and more worn. 

 

On a soft hill beyond a line of wooden fencing stood a cozy homestead framed by a family of modest oak trees. Dolores slowed her horse to a trot and then down to a walk as you passed through the ranch gate. 

 

The buckskin carried the two of you up the path leading to the porch. Dolores helped you down as her horse dropped her head and began to graze. She slid off and gathered up her groceries from the saddlebag. 

 

“Come and help me put her away,” she said, gathering up the leather reins and pulling them over her horse’s head. She tugged insistently at the stubborn mare to quit her grazing and walk on to untack. 

 

You followed her around the back of the house to the barn. As you stepped inside, your feet sunk into a blanket of pillowy golden straw. 

 

“Go on and take her tack off and I’ll go mix her dinner for tonight,” Dolores said, handing you the reins before leaving for the feed room. 

 

You twirled the strips of leather weakly between your fingers. The mare was saddled up with so many straps and buckles and latches, all strategically fastened in a system to best secure her rider. 

 

_ This looks very complicated… _

 

Your hands wandered to the mare’s bridle, gently pulling the crownpiece over her forelock and gently slipping her ears out of the browband. The rest of the bridle slid effortlessly off as she spat out the bit. As you turned to her flank, the mare began walking away from you. 

 

“Woah, woah,” you hissed, darting in front of her to block her path. She craned her neck over your shoulder, searching for Dolores and nickering hungrily. You pressed against the horse’s chest, leaning in with all your body weight until she finally backed up. 

 

She stood still reluctantly, ears pinned at you and a nasty scowl on her face. You noticed a Y-shaped strap that ran between the horse’s legs, parting at the chest and crossing either shoulder to the saddle. It looked like a good place to start. You knelt at her feet, peering up at the cinch that wrapped behind her elbows. The end of the breast collar was clipped to a silver ring attached to the cinch, which you promptly undid, letting the piece of leather swing down beside her knees. 

 

You rose to your feet as the horse eyed you impatiently. She already knew you weren’t sure what you were doing. That wouldn’t stop you from trying, though. You undid the last two straps from the saddle and slung the piece of tack over your shoulder. 

 

You walked back to the horse’s side. Thankfully, she didn’t decide to run away from you this time. You hesitantly ran your hands over the remaining gear. If anything, this looked like the hard part. As your fingers slipped across the cinch, the mare reached around and snapped at you, nearly taking a bite out of your shoulder. 

 

“Jesus!” You yelped, leaping backward. The mare shrugged you off, gazing away grumpily. 

 

“You okay back there? I forgot to tell you she’s a tad girthy, so be careful,” you heard Dolores call. 

 

“We’re fine,” you grumbled, giving the horse a dirty look. You slowly approached her again, hands reaching for the cinch. 

 

“I know, I know. You want this off. Just let me figure it out,” you whispered, giving her a pat on the neck. She snorted indifferently, her mind still on food like any horse. You lifted the fender and flipped it onto the seat, exposing a strangely-knotted leather strap. You fiddled with it until it finally came loose, falling slack to the horse’s side. 

 

The mare inhaled deeply, her chest free from the clutches of the cinch. There was one last strap to undo before you could let her go. To your relief, it unbuckled easily from the billet— far more easily than you had expected. 

 

Lastly, you turned to the left side of the mare— you knew that much. With one hand on the horn and the other on the cantle, you heaved the saddle off of her back, stumbling under the sudden weight. Only a big, strong animal like this could bear the weight— in addition to a full-grown person or two. Maybe she deserved to be grumpy. You took wobbly steps to the saddle rack, dumping the huge piece of tack onto it. You returned to the mare only to retrieve the fluffy white pad, placing it as well as the breast collar and the bridle neatly onto the rack. The mare stared at you all the while, as if asking you to leave. 

 

“Go on,” you sighed, pointing to the feed room. She nearly trotted away, in desperate search of her grain. You followed close behind, but not too close. It was clear that the mare hadn’t the highest opinion of you. 

 

Of course, you weren’t supposed to be able to get  _ too  _ hurt here, but you weren’t so sure of what exactly constituted the extent of “hurt”. A bruise, a fracture, and a concussion were all a matter of just how much force went into that kick. It was a chance you were not enthusiastic about taking. 

 

The mare stood at the feed room beside Dolores, who was mixing golden syrup into a feed bucket. 

 

“What’s that?” You asked, keeping your distance. 

 

“Honey,” she said, placing the bucket on the floor. The mare immediately shot her face inside, messily gobbling up the grain. “Otherwise she’ll never eat her darned pills.”

 

“Oh, I see,” you chucked. “Helps the medicine go down.”

 

“I gotta do what’s best for her,” Dolores sighed, stroking the buckskin’s dark mane. “Even if she hates it.”

 

“Yeah… You sure do have a way with her. I don’t think she likes me too much.”

 

“‘Course she does,” Dolores said, giving her a quick brush down. “She’s just having one of those moods. Mares are just like that, y’know?”

 

“I can’t say I do,” you confessed with a bashful smile. 

 

“It’s never too late to learn, city slicker,” Dolores teased. “But it’s getting dark soon We’d better get inside. Besides, I bet you’re famished.”

 

She closed the barn for the night, leading you up to the house. The worn, wooden porch creaked with your footfalls. The house looked old, but it surely couldn’t be much older than a decade or two. The aging of the building was an illusion, not unlike the other things in this world. 

 

Dolores led you through a short, narrow hallway leading to a staircase on your right and a living room just beyond it. She pointed you towards a table around the corner. 

 

“Wait here, I just gotta fetch my parents,” Dolores said, marching up the stairs. 

 

“Alright.” You took a seat as the aroma of cooking food filled your lungs. She soon returned with an older man you assumed must be her father. 

 

“Mama’s come down with a headache, so it’ll just be us eating together tonight,” she sighed, pulling out a chair across from you. “And this is my daddy, by the way.”

 

You shook hands with the man, introducing yourself with a smile. 

 

“Peter Abernathy,” he proclaimed, also taking a seat. “A pleasure.”

 

“Oh! Better get the dishes,” Dolores interjected, dashing off into the kitchen. She quickly made three trips there and back, bringing a variety of plates and bottles to the table. “Help yourselves!” 

 

Dolores and her father began to stock their own plates up with food. There was beef, baked beans, peas, cornbread, and fresh lattice apple pie. For drinks, she had brought lemonade, milk, and cider. You took what you found to be most appetizing. 

 

“So,” Mr. Abernathy said. “Where’s your friend from, Dolores?”

 

“She came here from across the sea,” she smiled, taking an extra piece of pie. “This way of life is all so new for her, and I thought I’d help her out.”

 

“I reckon it’s mighty different here. Kind of you to invite her over,” he replied. 

 

“Thank you all again,” you added, as you took a shy bite from your plate. “I’m not sure where I’d be right now if it weren’t for you whisking me off the ranch, Dolores.”

 

“I suppose sleeping out with the horses,” she laughed. “If they don’t chase you away first!”

 

“Oh, quit teasing her,” Mr. Abernathy scolded playfully. “Like you always say, we were all once new to this great world.”

 

“Alright, alright. That reminds me— we saw the herd on the way here. How are they doing?”

 

“Just fine. Don’t think we’ll be seeing any sickness this season. Got a few heifers expecting for the first time,” he replied. 

 

“How wonderful,” Dolores sighed. “Say, you ought to meet the herd in person sometime while you’re here.”

 

“Maybe they’ll like me more than your mare,” you joked, finishing up the last of your food. You had filled your plate entirely, yet you managed to discreetly scarf it down in record time. With the day you had, food was the last thing on your mind— until it was right in front of you. 

 

“Maybe… they are a bit shy though,” she said. “Just like you, I suppose. Go out there with a few sugar cubes though, and the youngin’s will be all over you!”

 

“Aww, they sound nice,” you cooed, imagining the little calves begging you for a treat. 

 

“It’ll have to wait until morning. There’re bandits in these hills. Wouldn’t want to run in with them,” she cautioned. 

 

“Good idea,” you replied. “That’s the last thing I’d want while meeting the cows!”

 

“Don’t worry— they haven’t come close in years. Still wouldn’t want to risk it while it’s dark,” she assured, gathering up the empty plates. 

 

“Let me take care of that, darlin’,” Mr. Abernathy insisted, taking the plates from Dolores. “How about you show your friend around upstairs?”

 

“Sure thing, daddy,” Dolores said, standing. “Come on now. We have a guest room.”

 

You followed Dolores up the wooden staircase. The walls were decorated with beautiful paintings of mountains, rivers, and prairies. A number of them featured horses in some form. 

 

“This art is just lovely,” you began as you walked with Dolores through a long hallway. 

 

“Thank you,” she chirped. “I did them myself!”

 

“Wow. You’re very talented.”

 

“I can bring you to my painting spot by the river tomorrow,” she offered, stopping by a door. “If you liked the hills, then you’ll love the river.”

 

“I’d like that,” you simpered. Dolores nodded, ushering you into the room. 

 

“Get a good night’s rest then, you hear,” she said softly. “I laid out some night clothes for you on the dresser if you’d prefer something more comfortable to sleep in.”

 

“Thanks,” you replied sheepishly. “I will.”

 

“Alright,” she smiled, touching your shoulder for a moment. “You let me know if you need anything. I’ll be just down the hall. Sweet dreams.”

 

You nodded, taking a seat on the mattress. Dolores left, closing the door all but for a crack. You sighed, falling back against the bed. Changing could wait for a little while. Laying here sounded nice. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, an English rider, cringing every time I have to write “lope” instead of “canter”. :P


	4. Bandits in These Hills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was nothing to admire, nothing to look on in astonishment. Nothing to speak of— not tonight.

You awoke to the sound of gunshots. You had been sleeping so soundly, it took a moment to register in your mind. But once it did, your impulses took over. 

 

You shot to your feet, eyes darting all through the darkness. You had no withstanding spatial memory of the room, so you stumbled toward the only remaining source of light. A dim glow resonated from behind an apparent set of curtains. Tearing them open gave you a full, moonlit view of the porch and just beyond. Though dark and nearly indistinguishable, the little you could see was just enough. It was just what you had feared. 

 

Dashing blindly through the hall and nearly tripping down the stairs, you raced to the front door. You felt something soft collide at your feet. Your hand instinctively reached for a smartphone, stopping within seconds of your thoughts catching up with your actions. No outside objects allowed in the park unless cleared by staff. Your eyes flickered down and your heart sank immediately. 

 

The light trickling through the sliver between the ajar door and its frame was just enough to illuminate the mass before you. It was a body, limp and soaked in its own pooling blood. To your horror, the fluid began to seep underneath your feet, coating your soles in sticky red. Your heart hammered in your chest and your hands shook as time seemed to slow all around you. 

 

_ I have to get out of here. I have to— _

 

A scream interrupted your thoughts. 

 

“Oh, all alone after sundown. Who’s gonna protect you now, hmm?”

 

Panic-stricken sobbing followed. You froze. The voices were just outside. 

 

“Got any use for this one?”

 

Your fingers curled around the grip of your revolver.  

 

“All yours, boss!”

 

Another one. You stepped quietly to the edge of the window. 

 

“Oooh! Don’t mind if I do! Hahah— no daddy, no cowboy. No one here to interrupt us this time.”

 

You peered out past the porch. An enormous man with a black hat, milk-stained muttonchops, and a dusty coat stood with two other men close by on either side. Dolores struggled in his grasp as he dragged her forcibly by the hair. 

 

“Interrupt… this… time,” Dolores groaned when the man released her. She lurched away, looking up only for him to slam a fist into her face. You flinched at the terrible sound paired with her pained yelp and the sight of Dolores staggering backwards, the man coming up behind her and wrapping his arm around her neck in a chokehold. It didn’t stop her stained cries. 

 

Drawing the revolver from its holster, you traced the barrel. It was fully loaded— six bullets, six chances. Your first time shooting a gun, and you could barely steady your fingers. First it was only panic, natural self-preserving fear— but that wasn’t what drove you now. Your hands trembled with the furious adrenaline which urged you to aim straight for that disgusting man dragging your friend away. 

 

_ Steady, goddamnit. Steady. I’m coming, Dolores.  _

 

You pulled the hammer back as it clicked into place. You’d have to take out the rest of the posse first. They stood in front of the porch, between you and the barn— two on each side. The front door opened to the right, and it was already parted just a crack. You slipped your finger through the trigger guard. 

 

Angling yourself leftwards, you thrust the gun out in front of you. Aim shouldn’t be too much of a problem. The two men were close enough— there wouldn’t be much to miss. Holding your breath, you kicked open the door. 

 

The two men whirled around. Before they could draw their weapons, you squeezed the trigger, a bullet ripping through the left man’s chest. His hands clutched at the wound as he collapsed to his knees before slumping forward, face down. The recoil shot up your wrist and shoulder, knocking you off balance. 

 

As you shook off the impact, a sharp burn ripped past your shoulder. You turned as another fire to your thigh knocked you off your feet. You scrambled backwards, neglecting the dull, yet dampening tear in your flesh aching for attention. 

 

The second man marched toward you. He was difficult to make out, but as he approached, the rage in his eyes was undeniable. You turned the cylinder to the next round. Flicking the hammer back, you raised the gun as you propped yourself up on an elbow, lining up the valley with your line of sight. 

 

“What do we have here,” he growled, sounding pleased with himself. “Why don’t you put the gun do—“

 

You squeezed the trigger. His neck snapped violently back as you put a bullet through his skull. The man fell flat on his back, his gun dropping to the side. You crawled to the body, stealing the discarded gun and heaving yourself to your feet. You lept from the porch, wheezing with the sudden sting in your leg on impact, and made a dash to the barn. 

 

It took every effort not to trip over your own erratic strides. A gunshot was only enough to break the skin and give you a bit of a limp. But that wasn’t the case for the hosts. You saw firsthand what a bullet can do to them, and had no doubt that the man would shoot Dolores that after he had done as he pleased. Readying your revolver for the third round, you threw open the barn door. 

 

The man stood just past the threshold, his back facing you. Beyond was Dolores, cowering before him as she lay vulnerable in a heap of straw. She gasped for breath between uncontrollable sobs. Tears streaked her face as she stared up at the man in terror. Scalding adrenaline bloomed in your chest as your finger wrapped around the trigger. 

 

“Get away from her,” you muttered. Your fists were balled, the revolver clenched in your dominant hand behind your back. 

 

The man turned around slowly to face you, hearing the click of his revolver. You could Dolores’s eyes widen and her lips part at the sight of you. She mouthed “run”.

 

“Must’ve missed you somehow, sweetcheeks,” he grumbled, a perverted smile stretching across his dirtied face. His breath smelled of hard alcohol. “But let me learn you something. I do what I want. You got any objections?”

 

“Yeah,” you spat, thrusting your revolver underneath his jaw. “I think I have one.”

 

You pulled the trigger, blowing the man’s face inside out. His corpse flew to the ground, sprawling lifelessly in the hay. You absorbed the shock of the fire this time as you watched your adversary quickly perish. 

 

Taking a long, shaken breath, you shoved the gun back into your holster and wiped your clammy hands on your breeches. You trudged over to Dolores, who immediately clung to your outstretched arm as you helped her up. 

 

“They killed my parents,” she cried, her nails digging almost painfully into your skin. “And I thought— you too— I…”

 

She hiccuped as she struggled to articulate her words. Instead of speaking, she settled on drifting forward and hiding her face in the crook of your neck. You felt her tears soak through your shirt as she tried to muffle her sounds of anguish. You hesitantly brought a hand to back, easing her weak sobs. 

 

“We should leave,” you said after a while when her crying subsided. “More of them might come by.”

 

Dolores nodded, drawing away from you reluctantly. She cradled her arms around her stomach and stared down at her feet. Her disheveled hair shielded half her face, but she was lost in thought from what you could see. 

 

“I’ll prepare the horse,” she murmured, turning away. 

 

It didn’t take long until she was ready to go. Dolores didn’t even take half as long as you did with her mare, even after what had happened. 

 

“Here,” you said, holding out the spare revolver as she led her horse around. “In case we run into anything on the way.”

 

“Thanks but… I’ve never done this before. Wouldn’t be much use giving it to me.” 

 

“It’s okay. Neither have I,” you breathed, wiping the sweat from your forehead as you glanced at the dead man by the straw pile. 

 

She stared at the revolver for a moment, looking as if it were some strange looking food before taking it from your hand. 

 

This ride wasn’t like the first. You tromped wordlessly through the sea of black. The cattle were nowhere to be seen. There was nothing to admire, nothing to look on in astonishment. Nothing to speak of— not tonight. You shivered as the stark night nipped at your flesh. At least you had neglected to change out of your clothes. You could only imagine how cold Dolores must’ve felt— she was still in her nightgown. Fear lingered with every hidden crevice you passed. Alas, nothing else threatening emerged. 

 

You rode into Sweetwater. The town was empty and so strange to see without the usual constant commotion. It was more unsettling than peaceful, yet the eerie silence offered more comfort than the hills after dark. The sun should be coming up soon enough.

 

“The Coronado opens at obscene hours,” you mentioned as the two of you slid off the mare. “I still have some extra cash— we could go there.”

 

“Anywhere but the Mariposa,” Dolores whispered. “Rebus’s friends are probably hanging around there.”

 

You sat together at the hotel front, occasionally fiddling your gun and marveling at the perfectly visible stars, until you finally saw lobby lights flicker on behind the windows. You beckoned for Dolores and the two of you went inside. 

 

An older man wearing a tan vest welcomed you from his desk. He charged five dollars for a room— just enough to stay until the next morning. He gave you a key, and you led Dolores upstairs. 

 

The Coronado certainly earned its title as a luxury hotel. The floor was spotless, the decor charming, and the bed was clean and comfortable. Your room appeared to be simply perfect— until you realized one small detail. 

 

_ Just one bed.  _

 

Dolores was already huddled underneath the duvet as she searched around for the softest pillow. 

 

“Uh, I can take the couch if you—“

 

“No,” she urged, patting the space beside her. “There’s room here.”

 

“Okay.” You switched out the lights after sliding off your boots. 

 

You climbed into the bed. It was downy and warm, to your relief. There was space  as Dolores insisted, but tight nonetheless. She lay on her back, arms curled tightly around her chest. The hotel was safe, but she was still visibly fearful— and rightfully so. Her ranch was likely the safest place she had ever known up until this point. Not anymore. 

 

You could feel her soft, uneven breaths on your neck. You wanted to at least reach out, to comfort her, but you couldn’t. She already had enough uninvited touch for the night, and unless she insisted, you would not touch her. You wouldn’t dare contribute to the trauma that was surely brewing. 

 

Despite the anxiety that nagged at your conscience, it wasn’t long until you gave in to your exhaustion. 

  
  
  
  



	5. Clueless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You weren’t sure if you were supposed to feel flattered or insulted, or both. It was hard to tell with the look she gave you— eyes narrowed with a sly smile, yet behind the teasing was almost a sort of admiration.

Soft rays of morning sunlight split though a half-draped window. Your eyes fluttered open as they were greeted by the faint silhouettes of every curve, angle, and edge within the dimly-lit room. It took you a moment to realize where you were. 

 

The memories of yesterday slowly drifted back to you. The panic and violence and anger and sorrow— It was all so much. You had slept well throughout the night without interruptions this time, thankfully. The turbulent emotions of the night before failed to re-emerge. After all, you were never in any real danger. Even so, something more did still linger. 

 

As you attempted to shift upright, an unidentifiable weight held you down by the waist. You dragged your hand over, finding slender fingers entwined in the bedding. Dolores had slung her arm over your side sometime during the night. She wasn’t terribly heavy, but she did have a tight enough grip that it didn’t seem fair to disturb her slumber just yet. 

 

Staying in bed for a while longer didn’t sound too bad. It was nice and warm, and you might as well enjoy it until it was time to check out. Your mind wandered, inevitably rounding back to the prior hours. 

 

You had shot three people last night. Sure, they weren’t genuine, biological human beings, but it didn’t feel anything less than real. At least you could comfort yourself with the fact that it hadn't been unsuspecting innocents that you killed— unlike what other guests have bragged on about. It was just too difficult to bring yourself to commit such heinous acts, even if it were meaningless, unreal, a game. You shot to kill, but not without good reason. 

 

It may have only been your second day, but there was already so much to take in. Everything felt filled with purpose and significance, down to the smallest detail. It was worth waiting for all those years. Recovery was a slightly less bumpy road with this to look forward too. What the coming days may bring was impossible to predict. All you knew was that the choices to make would be detrimental to what lay ahead. That could prove difficult, but you wouldn’t be alone. 

 

You felt Dolores shift beside you. Suddenly, she jerked her arm away. “I’m sorry— I didn’t mean to—“

 

“No, no. It’s okay,” you consoled, sitting up. 

 

“It got chilly last night,” Dolores mumbled. She huddled embarrassedly at her side of her bed, eyes averted. 

 

“I know,” you said, taking her hand hesitantly. She looked up at you with wide eyes. Nervous, but not untrusting. “Hey. Let’s go get breakfast. I’ll go talk to the sheriff, and then we’ll figure things out from there.”

 

She nodded with a weak smile. You slid out of bed, putting your boots, tie, and hat back on. There wasn’t a mirror for you to fix up with, but your hat would hopefully cover what ever mess may have occurred within the past hours. You rummaged through a closet beside the door as Dolores stood, putting slightly more effort into tidying her hair. 

 

“Here,” you said, pulling a black frock from the closet, seemingly left behind by former visitors. “Warm, practical, and a little more presentable than a nightgown.”

 

She slipped the coat on. It was slightly big on her, but it would do just fine. You smoothed the lapel and buttoned it down for her. 

 

“Do I look alright?” she asked meekly. 

 

“Well, I can’t say it particularly suits you,” you said. “But I bet you can make anything look good. Anyway, don’t worry about it— come on now.”

 

Downstairs, the Coronado’s restaurant was reasonably busy. It wasn’t necessary lively— people drifted from their rooms sluggishly to dine without the same zeal as the first day. You imagined the majority of guests, or as the hosts called “newcomers”, were drained from the adventurous fervor of prior hours, not unlike yourself, although their pursuits most certainly extended far past a sensible bedtime. You definitely  _ heard  _ it occasionally throughout the later hours. 

 

You and Dolores took a seat at a small, round table draped with a white cloth. The chatter around you seemed to melt into a jumble of incessant grousing, yet the atmosphere was still rather nice. Sparkling chandeliers and wall lights set on decorative gold and maroon motifs cast a warm, inviting glow. Gentle, joyous melodies were woven by an out-of-sight piano and its player. A slight view of Sweetwater’s Main Street could be seen beyond draped windows. 

 

“What can I get you girls?” asked a young, plucky waitress. She wore a frilly pink corset and tall beige stockings. Her hair was intricately styled up out of the way of her freckled olive face. 

 

“Uh, hello,” you said, startled by her sudden appearance. You weren’t entirely awake yet. 

 

“Name’s Carmen. I’ll be serving y’all today.”

 

“I’ll take pancakes and a coffee,” Dolores broke in as you racked your mind for ideas a moment too long. “Same thing for her, too.”

 

“Coming right up,” Carmen drawled, strutting to the next table. 

 

“I wasn’t sure what to order,” you chuckled once the woman had left. 

 

“Even with all that dauntlessness,” Dolores smirked, her cheek propped against her palm. “I forget just how clueless you can be.” 

 

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to feel flattered or insulted, or both. It was hard to tell with the look she gave you— eyes narrowed with a sly smile, yet behind the teasing was almost a sort of admiration. 

 

“Thank you?” you smiled, clearly puzzled. 

 

“Oh, you,” Dolores chucked weakly, shaking her head. 

 

It was uplifting to see that your sheer dorkiness was enough to coax a genuine smile out of her, even after everything. You hoped it would be enough, at least for now. 

 

Carmen soon returned with your breakfast. The pancakes were warm and fluffy, with amber maple syrup drizzled on top. It was real maple, to your delight— none of that corn syrup nonsense from the supermarket. The coffee was equally as delicious— a rich, chocolatey aroma lingering with the dark roast. Classic luxury, just as was advertised, and likely the bulk there was to offer. Sweetwater was tame. You had yet to see what the fringes of the park had in store. 

 

There wasn’t much of a rush, enjoying the atmosphere and the food. You were certainly in no rush to speak to the sheriff. Dolores seemed to be content at the moment, though you could notice as she would drift in thought, presumedly to the attack on the ranch. That would only last for a moment though, as she would quickly snap back to the present, taking a sip of coffee or smiling at you, albeit with a tinge of sadness. Making a report meant rousing that pain, inevitable as it was. 

 

You paid Carmen for the meal and left her a generous tip— which happened to be the last of your money. It went fast, but you weren’t just paying for yourself. You wouldn’t just send Dolores on her way. 

 

The sun shone bright outside, and Sweetwater was back to its busy self. The sheriff’s office was just up ahead. It was a rickety, aging shack, the dark wash fading from its facade. A round, old man sat right outside, having a lively conversation with the marshal next to him. 

 

“Sheriff Pickett,” Dolores said, catching the stout man’s attention. 

 

“Oh, Dolores! How are you doing this morning? Your father doing well?” he greeted with a hearty chuckle. 

 

Your heart sank. Dolores glanced at you, her lips pursed thin and her eyes pleading for you to take the lead. 

 

“The ranch was attacked last night,” you said lowly. The sheriff's jolly demeanor quickly shifted to that of concern. “Dolores and I were lucky to make it out of there… but Mr. Abernathy and his wife…”

 

He stood, pulling off his grey hat in lament. You heard Dolores sniffle beside you. 

 

“Did you catch a glimpse of any of the bandits?” the sheriff asked after a moment. 

 

“It was Rebus and his men,” Dolores said, her voice wavering. “Walter and Laramie.”

 

“I’ll send out the marshalls immediately,” the sheriff bellowed, whipping out his revolver. “We’ll have ‘em hanging by sundown. Always hated that son of a bitch outlaw.”

 

“Wait, Pickett,” Dolores said before he could get ahead of himself. “My friend here shot down all three of them.”

 

“Well, looks like we got ourselves the real hero right here, then,” he effused, throwing his hands out to the sides. “But I’d better have a patrol around the ranch, just in case any more of his amigos decided to hang around.”

 

“Better safe than sorry,” Dolores sighed, crossing her arms. “I suppose I can’t go home just yet. Thank you, Sheriff.”

 

“You take care of yourself, sweetheart,” he said, replacing his hat. “Come on by when it starts to get dark out.”

 

Dolores bid Pickett goodbye, and the two of you left to fetch your ride. Her mare was still tied outside the Coronado, looking disgruntled and still fully tacked. 

 

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” Dolores consoled, stroking her mane. “I didn’t mean to leave you out here all night like this. Guess I just wasn’t thinking straight.”

 

She untied her mare from the hitch, stepping up into one stirrup and swinging the other leg over. She held a hand out for you. 

 

You hissed as you put weight onto your left leg. The spot above your knee burned as you settled into the saddle. Through all the commotion, you had forgotten to tend to your wound. 

 

“What’s the matter?” Dolores asked, tiring to look at you. 

 

“I’m okay. I just need a minute,” you sighed, covering the tear in your breeches. 

 

“You’re hurt,” she said, swiping your hand away. “I ought to get you to O'Rourke!”

 

“No, no— I’ll be okay,” you urged. “Let’s go!”

 

“You were shot for God’s sakes!”

 

“it’s just a graze, Dolores,” you whined. “I can fix it up later— I don’t need a doctor!”

 

“Fine then. But I’m fixing you up as soon as the marshals finish their scouting, you hear?”

 

“Alright,” you shrugged. 

 

“Good,” she said, pushing her horse forward. “Cause I’m holding you to it.”

 

You rose out of Sweetwater with leisure. This time, Dolores took a backroad that led into a woodsy area, as opposed to the green-on-red shrubbed hills. Birds sang pretty melodies, and the occasional hawk cried from beyond the clouds. 

 

“Where are we going?” you asked as you strayed farther from the main trail. 

 

“You’ll see,” Dolores said coyly, turning her horse into the treeline. 

 

Healthy, verdant elms sprouted out of the growing shrubs, reaching up and wisping over the woods as if shielding it from the sun. The shrubs weren’t scrawny and grasping for life like they were out by the trail— they were lush and full, blossoming with little yellow flowers that smelled of citrus. 

 

The trees began to break, giving away to tall grass as the sound of flowing water rivaled the cheeping of the finches. Up ahead was a long, green riverbank, whose gentle waves were disrupted only by a herd of feral horses, lapping lazily at its surface. 

 

“I know where we are now,” you breathed as Dolores carefully helped you down. 

 

“The river,” she smiled, letting her buckskin wander to graze. “I said I’d bring you here. Isn’t it beautiful?”

 

“You didn’t have to…”

 

“I like it here,” she began, taking a seat in the grass. She motioned for you to come. “It’s safe, comforting… I reckoned you’d feel the same way.”

 

You collapsed beside her, less gracefully than you would have hoped. The horses in front of you moved about without a worry, barely noticing your presence. 

 

“Relax,” Dolores sighed, touching your shoulder. “Why’re you so tense?”

 

“Oh, umm,” you mumbled as she lay back in the grass. “I don’t know.” 

 

You only then became aware of your own awkwardness. There were plenty of hours to spend here at the riverbank, but you had no idea where to start. You lay down, the warm sunshine almost lulling you to sleep if you hadn’t been on edge. 

 

“We haven’t really talked much,” you said after a while. “I mean, we haven’t had too much of a chance to…”

 

Although it was frazzled from sleep, her hair seemed to sparkle golden in the midday light. Despite being punched and thrown around hours ago, she still looked flawless. Her lips curved into a slight smile. 

 

“No, we haven’t,” Dolores murmured, her soft blue gaze settling on you. “So let’s.”


	6. The River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course, she couldn’t know anything about modern day life outside of the park. You figured that the people who pulled the strings wanted to minimize anachronistic details for better immersion. Still, her innocence on the matter was endearing.

****The calm, tranquil evening went by smoothly. Dolores took this time to introduce you to all of her animal friends— each of the feral horses, all the kinds of birds in the trees, the squirrels and the rabbits, and all the other little creatures that inhabited the wood. She told you about the different flowers and warned you not to eat the berries growing near the big elm.

 

Dolores insisted you’d walk slowly, guiding you over logs and often forcing you to take a seat for a minute or two. She just wouldn’t trust that your injury was minor as you had said before, despite your constant reassurance. Exploring took a fair chunk of time, and while there was plenty of conversation, you hadn’t exactly pulled the most weight. 

 

When it seemed as if she had shown you every last secret that the river and its wood had to offer, she led you back to the bank. The horses were right where they were before, though the birds had quieted down. You could hear the wind between the trees now— faint, but still a distinctive, hollow whisper that fluttered through each leaf. 

 

“That’s enough walking for you,” Dolores said, pulling you down to lay in the grass again. “I hope I didn’t make you too tired.”

 

“I try my best to keep up,” you laughed, staring up at the gradually darkening sky. “Don’t worry about me, though. I’m just getting used to things— slowly but surely...”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Dolores sighed. She sat up for a moment, picking a small sunflower from the ground. She rolled its stem between her fingers thoughtfully as she admired the vibrant flower. 

 

“Hey, city slicker,” she said after inspecting the flower. She leaned over, gently tucking it into your hair. “Thought this would look real pretty on you.”

 

“Oh, uh— thanks,” you said meekly, feeling your cheeks grow warm. 

 

The way the setting sun cast down on Dolores made her look nothing less than an angel watching over you, even with the dark coat that bunched up at her waist. She settled back, laying on her side with an arm propping up her cheek. 

 

“Speaking of which, why don’t you tell me about you? I’ve done quite enough rambling on myself anyway.”

 

“Hmm… okay,” you said, a hand wandering to fiddle with the sunflower. “I’m not sure where to start.”

 

“There can’t be too many cattle ranchers in the city. What do you do?”

 

“What do I do?” you echoed in contemplation. “Well, I go to work, I study… but I guess I stay at home mostly, taking things slow.”

 

“Study? You mean trade, or schooling, or…?” Dolores prodded. 

 

“Yeah,” you nodded with a nervous laugh. “University, actually.”

 

“Wow,” she gasped, a big smile spreading over her face. “You must be so smart, and so wealthy!”

 

“Oh boy, not particularly…” you trailed off. 

 

Of course, she couldn’t know anything about modern day life outside of the park. You figured that the people who pulled the strings wanted to minimize anachronistic details for better immersion. Still, her innocence on the matter was endearing. You certainly wished you could live up to her haughty impression of you. 

 

“Come on, now,” Dolores consoled. “What do you study?”

 

“Well… I’m trying to be a scientist.”

 

“No sense in being modest then!” she scolded. “I don’t reckon I’ve ever met a scientist, let alone a college-attending woman! Don’t give me any of that ‘not particularly’ nonsense.”

 

You shook your head, chucking. “Like I said, I’m trying.”

 

“Y’know,” she whispered, scooting closer to you. “I haven’t gotten the chance to learn much about science. Maybe you can teach me a bit?”

 

“Hmm…”

 

You couldn’t outright teach her about your particular major. The concept of a computer was probably far beyond the mental grasp of these Old West storyline hosts. Attempting to explain it could risk her cognitive wellbeing— she was a computer herself, after all, albeit a highly complex one. The last thing you’d want to do is break her. You would have to think of something else. 

 

“I do know a little astronomy…”

 

“Oh, I do love the night sky,” Dolores cooed, staring up with you at the deep blue twilight. “I know a few of the constellations too— Orion, The Big Dipper…”

 

“Good— well, you see that little disk over there by the smaller fish of Pisces?” you said as you pointed a finger in the air. 

 

“Yes… I see it. That fuzzy looking star?”

 

“That’s right. That ‘fuzzy looking star’ is actually one trillion stars just like our sun, all bunched up together, just like our Milky Way,” you said softly, folding your arms over your chest. As night fell, the chilly air began to nip at your skin. 

 

“That’s incredible,” Dolores breathed, gazing dreamily at the sky. “So many stars, I can’t begin to fathom it. Does it have a name?”

 

“We call her Andromeda. She’s ten billion years old and so far away from this world, I can hardly describe the distance. But still, her light shines through that infinite darkness.”

 

Dolores was quiet for a while, tracing little lines between the stars. She gazed at them with such wonder. It was a look you rarely got to see within others in the real world. And you yourself hoped to never lose sight of that feeling either. 

 

“It’s getting cold,” Dolores said sheepishly, wrapping the coat around her nightdress carefully. 

 

“You could… come over here,” you whispered, putting an arm out shyly. “If you’d like…”

 

Dolores smiled, nuzzling in beside you. She rested her cheek on your shoulder and slipped a hand over your own. 

 

“You weren’t kidding,” you snickered, flinching slightly with the sudden feeling of her cold fingertips on your arm. 

 

“Tell me more about Andromeda,” she whispered. Her face was so close to yours, you could feel her breath on your cheek and strands of her luscious hair grazing your clavicle. 

 

“Well, uh,” you stammered, shivering at her touch. “One day, four billion years from now, she’ll collide with our own galaxy. It’ll create something entirely new— but not to worry. That’ll be way past our time.”

 

“I’m not worried,” Dolores breathed. You could barely see with the trees obstructing the moonlight, but you could feel her smile. “But, how do you know these things?”

 

“Lots and lots of mathematics— that I won’t bore you with,” you laughed weakly. 

 

She grew quiet again, her smile fading as she searched the sky once more. She fiddled with the ends of your tie, sighing. 

 

“I suppose that’s where my parents are now,” she murmured. “Up there somewhere.”

 

“Maybe,” you whispered, giving her shoulder a squeeze. She hiccuped, drawing her hand away to wipe her eyes. “But please, don’t cry. Because you know what?”

 

You sat up, pulling Dolores to her knees. Wet streaks glistened down her face in the low light, but her eyes still yearned on, ever-ardently. “What?”

 

“Everything that is, and everything that has been,” you began, brushing the hair from her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the tears still came. 

 

“...It all started up there, in that great big beyond. You, me, the birds, and the trees— and that’s where we’ll all end. And somehow, everything will be together like it was in the beginning. Time and distance, they can separate things, but nothing can stop what is only inevitable.”

 

“I don’t know what all that means,” she said weakly, shaking her head. 

 

“I know it’s hard to understand… but trust me. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

 

Dolores opened her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. She stood and held a hand out for you. “Okay.”

 

You followed her to the river. Specks of moonlight flickered against the ripples and the croaking of frogs resounded across the banks. She dabbed her face with a bunched up sleeve before turning to you with a soft smile. 

 

“Tell me something else?”

 

“Sure,” you smiled. “You see those lines in that plateau?”

 

“Those,” she nodded, pointing out across the river. “Yes. I’ve painted them before. They’ve beautiful.”

 

“Each of those stripes? Five million years apart,” you said as she turned to you in awe. “Now, we didn’t always own this world. Great beasts once roamed the Earth, millions of years ago. And there they are— in that rock, frozen in time.”

 

“What did they look like?” Dolores asked, looking back at the plateau. 

 

“Some were as tall as mountains. Others were just like fearsome songbirds. They came in every shape and size…”

 

“What a time it must’ve been, ages ago,” she sighed, imagining the creatures you had described. 

 

“Yeah…” you trailed off. “Say, I think we should get going, actually. It’s already dark, and the sheriff's gonna want to see to it that we’re indoors.”

 

“I nearly forgot,” she chirped, snapping out of her thoughts. 

 

Dolores called her horse over, who happily stood still, munching on leaves as she hopped on. She pulled you up very carefully, with a gentleness towards your injury that would feel ridiculous if she weren’t so sweet about it. 

 

The ride to the ranch was fairly short, despite the smooth, slow jog that Dolores insisted Bucky remain in for the duration. It was pitch-black all around, and there was not much to admire in the small amount of scenery available besides the stark silhouette of branches clawing into the navy blue above. The stars were still there, of course, but you could only gawk at them from your seat for so long until your neck began to ache. 

 


	7. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All that you would need to focus on now was achieving that full recharge you so desperately needed.

Sheriff Pickett and his marshals were waiting out by the front porch. The bodies were gone, and there was no sign of any other bandits. They waved you over as they came into view. 

 

“There you are,” Pickett said. “I was starting to worry you girls might’ve ran into some trouble.”

 

“No, sir,” Dolores started, sliding off of Bucky before helping you down. “We just took our time by the riverbank.”

 

“I hear it’s an awful nice spot,” he nodded. “But it’d be best for you two to get indoors. We didn’t find any more of ‘em— you seemed to take care of business rather well— but you’d best be careful nonetheless.”

 

“Of course, Sheriff,” Dolores concurred. “I wouldn’t want to take any risks.”

 

“Good to hear,” he said. “We cleaned up some of that mess, thought I’d mention. I’ll let you go now… do fetch me if there is any trouble, you hear?”

 

“Thank you, sir. Take care.”

 

The men mounted their horses and rode off into the darkness. You watched them trot down the dusty path and through the trees until they disappeared from view. 

 

“I’ll go put Bucky away,” Dolores said, turning to you. “Go and wait for me in your room— and be careful on those steps, please. I’ll be quick.”

 

You nodded apprehensively as your mind wandered back to the other night. You withstood the urge to follow her anyway, Dolores hastily tugging her mare away to the barn. It should be safe by now, but you couldn’t help but worry to some extent. Two attacks in a row would be overkill from the writing department, especially given how close you still were in regards to Sweetwater. There shouldn’t be any real sadistic action going on unless you strayed out beyond the river, given the content safeguards. As much as you would like to test your limits, you had already chosen another path. It wouldn’t feel right to subject Dolores to any more danger for your own entertainment, even if that was the purpose of this place. 

 

You marched up the steps of the porch and let yourself in. Sure enough, the “mess” was cleaned up. There wasn’t a spot out of place in the house. Still, the events of your first night were enough to leave you unsettled as you stepped foot into the house again. 

 

As Dolores instructed, you waited up in the guest room as she put away the horse. This time, you actually had the motivation to change out of your clothes and into the sleepwear she had lain out for you before. The cotton was soft and cozy, as were the sheets when you began to shuffle into them. Hopefully, this night would yield the most comfortable sleep so far. There should be no interruptions and no worries to keep you up at night. All that you would need to focus on now was achieving that full recharge you so desperately needed. 

 

Not long after you settled in, the door creaked open and Dolores let herself in. In her arms she held a purse, a plate, and a glass of water. She set down her things on the nightstand and took a seat on the space beside you. 

 

“Now, let’s see that wound of yours,” Dolores said, pulling back the sheets you had tucked yourself into. “I mean, I hope you won’t mind me taking a look.”

 

You nodded, not resisting her touch as she rode up the edges of your nightgown over your left thigh. From her purse, she pulled out and dampened a small hand towel with the water sitting on the nightstand. 

 

“This will hurt a bit,” she murmured as she trailed her fingertips softly beside your wound. “But you just hold still now.”

 

You winced as Dolores dabbed away the dried blood with her towel. She blinked curiously, inspecting the area more closely as she finished. “You were right… it is just a graze…”

 

“Luck?” You supposed as she pulled out a dry towel to pat down the moisture. Her eyes met yours as you spoke, shuddering when she brushed past your thigh again. 

 

“I’m not so sure,” she said, breaking her gaze to retrieve a roll of gauze from her purse. Carefully, she lifted your leg and began wrapping the wound, looking up at you every so often to gage her handiwork. You watched the white fabric strip go round and round, the hold growing to a gentle constriction about your limb. 

 

As she continued on, Dolores’s ocean blue gaze grew distant. She slowly stretched the final round across the others before finally affixing the edge to the wrap.

 

“I never thanked you,” she said after several moments passed in silence. “For saving me.”

 

“I’d consider this enough thanks,” you reassured, gesturing to the bandages. “You did a great job.”

 

“I really... ought to repay you,” Dolores murmured. You felt the side of the bed sink in as she drew closer. Her eyes wandered blankly down, one hand sliding over your own while the other inched toward your waist. 

 

“No, Dolores...” You pulled hand away, her eyes darting back up to your face in sudden doubt as you did. “You really don’t have to do that.”

 

“Oh— I’m sorry… Are you sure? I mean, there isn’t something wrong with me, is there?” She fumbled for words as rueful anxiety washed over her. Her hands were now folded sheepishly at her lap. Disheveled blonde locks fell across her flushed cheeks as she averted her eyes in chagrin. 

 

“No, no. Of course not,” you interjected, reaching out and brushing the strands from her face. “Just… I’m tired. And you must be too. I think we should get some rest. “

 

“Right— rest,” she breathed and gave you a sad smile. “I don’t think that’ll be too easy. I won’t lie. It is frightening to be back here. After what happened…”

 

“I know, and that’s okay.”

 

She nodded bashfully before leaning back and pulling the sheets over herself. You caught her looking over at you with sincerity, but she quickly turned away as you noticed. 

 

With a sigh, you held your arm out. Dolores blinked, her lips parting slightly as she realized what you were offering. She nestled in close and tucked herself into your side. A meek arm crept over your chest, her hand resting just above your clavicle. Her unkempt, yet soft hair tickled the exposed skin at your neck and shoulders. 

 

“...I brought some pie up for you,” Dolores mumbled, sleep heavy in her tone. “It’s on the nightstand…”

 

“Thanks,” you chuckled weakly, glancing over at the slice sitting within an arm’s reach, illuminated by the moonbeams streaming through the partially open window. Your normally nagging hunger seemingly took a backseat even after the less eventful day. 

 

Pie for dinner didn’t sound bad at all. 


End file.
